


make my heart sing

by doctorkaitlyn



Series: tumblr fics & ficlets. [87]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, F/F, Future Fic, Marriage Proposal, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-15
Updated: 2017-01-15
Packaged: 2018-09-17 16:33:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9333533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doctorkaitlyn/pseuds/doctorkaitlyn
Summary: When Malia comes home to the smell of Kira bleeding, she inadvertently discovers that Kira was planning on proposing to her on the weekend.Since the secret's out, she figures there's no point in waiting longer.





	

**Author's Note:**

> written for the prompt "Malira + [Guitar String / Wedding Ring by Carly Rae Jepsen?"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CHRqSFdRW28)
> 
> minor warning for mild injury and blood.

As soon as she walks through the front door, Malia smells blood. 

"Kira?" she yells, dropping the six grocery bags twined around her fingers to the floor (and just barely registering the sound of a glass jar smashing). She doesn't receive a response, and she moves further into the house, the smell of blood only strengthening with each step. She yells Kira's name again, the word slightly distorted by her fangs pressing into her gums. 

"I'm out here!" Kira shouts from the direction of the backyard. She doesn't sound especially chipper, but there's also no notes of fear in her voice, so Malia retracts her claws as she heads for the back door. 

The scent of blood spikes when she steps out onto the concrete pad that serves as their back porch, and she immediately spots accompanying drops of crimson staining the ground. There's enough of them to be worrisome, but Kira doesn't look any worse for the wear. She's sitting in one of their cheap, lopsided plastic chairs, hands tucked between her thighs. When Malia just stares at her, she slides her right hand out and holds it up. 

"Had a few accidents," she says with a smile. There are thin red cuts criss-crossing her palm and what looks like a burn on the heel of her hand, shiny and pink and, thankfully, already healing. 

"What happened?" Malia asks, dropping to her knees beside the chair and pulling Kira's hand to her mouth. Her skin tastes soapy and metallic, not exactly a winning combination, but Malia doesn't stop until she's carefully pressed her lips to each of the wounds dotting Kira's skin. While she's doing it, Kira's scent spikes twice; first with sour anxiety and then by something almost _minty_ , which is Kira's unique scent of happiness. 

"It was supposed to be a surprise," Kira sighs. "I wanted to have it ready for this weekend, but after cutting myself a dozen times, I decided to take a break. I guess I lost track of time." 

"What are you talking about?" Malia asks cautiously. She's all too familiar with what is happening on the weekend; Saturday marks the eighth occasion of the first of their two anniversaries, the day they'd first gotten together during the first half of senior year when Malia had recklessly leaned in and kissed Kira in the pouring rain. 

(Their second anniversary, of the day Kira emerged from the desert and showed up at Malia's apartment streaked with dust and sand and not looking a day older than eighteen, is two months from now. 

It's only the fourth occurrence of that anniversary.) 

She's not sure what Kira could have been doing for their anniversary that would lead to her bleeding all over the porch. After a moment, where the curdled milk smell of anxiety returns in full force, Kira sighs and points to the circular, glass-topped table on her right. 

"It's over there," she says quietly. Malia continues holding Kira's hand as she stands up, which gives her a perfect view of the table. It's littered and surrounded with debris. A battered wooden guitar that Kira picked up at a yard sale a few weeks ago is propped up in another chair, stripped of its strings. The strings are stretched across and hanging over the edge of the table, wobbling and shifting whenever the breeze picks up. A soldering iron is laying on the concrete, cord trailing behind it. Pliers and other tools are scattered around the area and, sitting right in the middle of the table, is a perfect circle of soldered guitar string, small enough to be a ring. 

After a moment, Malia realizes that's exactly what it is. 

She drops Kira's hand, crosses over to the table, and picks up the ring. There's a small bump where the two ends of the piece of wire were fused together, but there's no fraying or sharp pieces poking out. Although she doesn't slide it onto her finger just yet, from a glance, Malia is fairly certain that it'll fit her perfectly. 

"This what I think it is?" she asks, turning back to Kira. Kira nods once, her eyes fixed just to Malia's left, cheeks faintly pink. 

"Yes. I wanted to add another level to it, so it was a bit thicker, and maybe some kind of stone. And I had my speech planned and everything! I wrote it on my phone while you were in the shower this morning."

"I was wondering why you didn't want to shower together," Malia says thoughtfully, turning the ring over in her palm. Kira's embarrassment is clear as day, and the sight and smell of it makes Malia's chest throb painfully, so she decides to put an end to it. She drops back down to her knees, in front of Kira this time, and holds the ring out. 

"Here." Kira's eyes grow, darting from the ring to Malia and back again. 

"But it's not finished," she says softly. 

"It is," Malia says firmly, pressing the ring into Kira's hand. "I don't need anything else, Kira. I just need to know that this is what you actually want." Kira nods rapidly and leans forward, sliding onto the edge of her chair so that her face is at the same level as Malia's. 

"It is," she says. "It's what I've wanted since the day I came back." She takes a deep breath and closes her eyes for a moment. When she flutters them back open, they're slightly watery, and she's smiling from ear to ear. 

"Malia, will you marry me?" 

"Absolutely," Malia replies, holding her hand up so that Kira can slide the glinting ring onto her index finger. It fits perfectly, and it doesn't feel obtrusive or annoying. It's one of the most beautiful things she's ever seen, second only to Kira standing on her doorstep after four years gone. Her own face splits into a grin, and she leans up for a kiss, sliding both of her hands into Kira's curtain of hair. 

She supposes that she'll have to start thinking of a way to make a ring for Kira as well; store-bought simply isn't going to cut it. But that can wait a little longer. For the time being, she has far more important things to think about. 

Namely, scooping Kira up out of the chair, carrying her up the stairs to their bed, and showing her just how much she loves her. 

(And then she'll put away the groceries. Maybe.)

**Author's Note:**

> as always, I can be found on [tumblr.](http://banshee-cheekbones.tumblr.com/) :)


End file.
